


Four Becomes Eight - Warrior Cats Rewrite

by Firebird24811



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, like so much gay, the new prophecy rewrite, tons of gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebird24811/pseuds/Firebird24811
Summary: In this world, the fate of the clans isn't just left up to the newbies of StarClan. The four kits of Moth Flight decide four isn't enough, and they pick four more cats. Let's see who dies this time!





	1. Allegiances & Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is a rewrite, obviously there will be some changes, so I'm listing obvious ones as I go. And yes, this is VERY rambly, sorry.
> 
> First, two cats are chosen from each clan, not one. Crowpaw and Morningflower from WindClan, Brambleclaw and Sootfur from ThunderClan, Feathertail and Mothwing from RiverClan, and Tawnypelt and Littlecloud from ShadowClan. The trip is going to take much longer. I've created a few new cats for ThunderClan, and several more in the other clans because they're SUPER empty. Squirrelpaw and Stormfur are still coming, but so is Hawkfrost. Since this is partially inspired by Ties that Bind, there will be poly relationships. Also, while I try to include LGBT kitties in my writing, I also do include massive age differences and incest sometimes. Because A, the clans are generally pretty inbred to the point where siblings and parents are the only ones clearly off-limits (usually), and B), I just don't really see a point. Feel free to argue with me in the comments. Seriously, I don't mind explaining and listening.
> 
> Second, my view on kittens has adapted over time. Generally cats actually have very large litters (hence why TNR programs are so important, because colonies can become overrun very quickly), but in the books litter sizes are usually 2-4. My theory is that they have large litters, but most of the kits die before apprenticeship. We don't really see that much about kits in the first series and the first half of the second series, for the most part, so kits can die before they become apprentices and not be commented on, but once there are actually POVS in the nursery they can't kill off half a dozen kits that you just read about playing with. It would traumatize the readers. So the number of kits reduced. At least that's my theory. So I'm adding kits to some litters and mentioning others that died, and kits aren't named until they open their eyes or so.
> 
> Third, because the other clans are so teeny tiny, I'm adding cats to them to level it out. I just counted how many cats were in ThunderClan in each slot and then matched it more or less in the others.
> 
> Fourth, Mistystars kits make NO SENSE. Ugh. I was working on the RiverClan allegiences when I got confused. Apparently, according to my research, Reedwhisker and Perchpaw were kits in the first series, in the book where Firestar and Greystripe rescued two kits from the river, then apparently apprenticed shortly after, sometime after Forest of Secrets, when Bluestar asked about them. But in the second book of The New Prophecy, Leafpaw rescues Reedpaw when he almost drowns, and he's called a "young apprentice" in comparison to her. So...I'm pretending that the kits in the first series weren't Reedwhisker and Perchpaw. They can be Perchkit and another unnamed kit.
> 
> Fifth, there are generally two POVs in each book in TNP. Book one has Brambleclaw and Leafpaw, book two has Stormfur and Leafpaw, plus two chapters of Feathertail. Book three has Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw, book four has Brambleclaw and Leafpaw/pool. Book five has Squirrelflight and Leafpool, book six has Brambleclaw and Leafpool. So basically Leafpool is the most consistent character in the books. That means that Tawnypelt and Crowpaw got ZERO chapters, and Feathertail only got two. So I'll be splitting up the POVS differently, since there are eight chosen cats, three hanger-ons (Squirrelpaw, Stormfur, Hawkfrost), and Leafpool. Right now I think book one will be Brambleclaw, Leafpaw, and Stormfur, with sections at the beginning of the first eight chapter showing the dream and reaction of each chosen cat.
> 
> Sixth, Longtail is still a warrior. No explanation really required there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I haven't read much of the newest books because they're just so freaking weird, but the thing with Onestar is just...it makes no sense. He was friends with a former kittypet, so why did he decide to go brag to them and such? I'm changing his story quite a bit, here.
> 
> Also, Tawnypelts looks are different in this.

  **ALLEGIANCES**

**ThunderClan**

**Leader:** Firestar - ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt

**Deputy:** Greystripe - long-haired grey tom

_Apprentice, Redpaw_

**Medicine cat(s):** Cinderpelt - dark grey she-cat

_Apprentice, Leafpaw_

**Warriors:**

Longtail - pale tabby tom with dark black stripes, mostly blind

Mousefur - small dusky brown she-cat

_Apprentice, Spiderpaw_

Dustpelt - dark brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Squirrelpaw_

Sandstorm - pale ginger she-cat

_Apprentice, Sorrelpaw_

Cloudtail - long-haired white tom

Brackenfur - golden brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Whitepaw_

Thornclaw - golden brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Shrewpaw_

Brightheart - white she-cat with ginger patches

_Apprentice, Nutpaw_

Brambleclaw - dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Ashfur - pale grey (with darker flecks) tom, dark blue eyes

Rainwhisker - dark grey tom with blue eyes

_Apprentice, Slatepaw_

Sootfur - lighter grey tom with amber eyes

**Apprentices:**

Sorrelpaw - tortoiseshell and white she-cat with amber eyes

Squirrelpaw - dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

Leafpaw - light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes and white paws

Redpaw - pale reddish brown tabby tom with amber eyes (son of Firestar and Sandstorm)

Nutpaw - tortoiseshell tom with green eyes (son of Firestar and Sandstorm)

Spiderpaw - long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes

Shrewpaw - small dark brown tom with amber eyes

Slatepaw - dark grey tom with pale grey markings and amber eyes

Whitepaw - white she-cat with green eyes

**Queens:**

Goldenflower - pale ginger coat, the oldest nursery queen

Ferncloud - pale grey (with darker flecks) she-cat, green eyes (Birchkit, Larchkit, Hollykit)

**Elders:**

Frostfur - beautiful white she-cat with blue eyes

Dappletail - once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat, the oldest cat in ThunderClan

Speckletail - pale tabby she-cat

 

  **ShadowClan**

**Leader:** Blackstar - large white tom with huge jet black paws

**Deputy:** Russetfur - dark ginger she-cat

_Apprentice, Jaggedpaw_

**Medicine cat(s):** Littlecloud - very small tabby tom

**Warriors:**

Oakfur - small brown tom

_Apprentice, Smokepaw_

Tawnypelt - mottled pale ginger-and-tawny she-cat with amber eyes

Slugclaw - non-binary cat with black fur and green eyes

_Apprentice, Rubblepaw_

Cedarheart - dark grey tom

_Apprentice, Amberpaw_

Frogheart - non-binary cat with dark grey fur and large white patches along body

Stingclaw - small light brown tabby tom with white markings

Rowanclaw - ginger tom

_Apprentice, Talonpaw_

Nightwing - black she-cat

Blizzardwhisker - white tom with blue eyes, profoundly deaf

Tallpoppy - long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

Pinefur - dark brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Duckpaw_

Tigerfoot - dark golden-brown tabby she-cat

**Apprentices:**

Smokepaw - dark grey tom

Talonpaw - black tom

Rubblepaw - dark grey speckled she-cat

Duckpaw - dark brown tabby she-cat with white markings

Amberpaw - golden-brown tabby non-binary cat

Jaggedpaw - ginger-and-white tom with ragged, fluffy fur

**Queens:**

Sandrunner - pale golden-brown tabby tom with white chest and muzzle (Rosekit, Sleekkit)

Beetlefang - black she-cat with white chest and muzzle (Fogkit, Dewkit, Icekit, Cloverkit) 

**Elders:**

Runningnose - small grey-and-white tom, formerly the medicine cat

Cinderpool - dark grey she-cat with heavily-white spotted pelt

 Shrewpelt - grey-brown tom

Starlingnose - non-binary grey-brown tabby cat with distinctive markings

 

**WindClan**

**Leader:** Tallstar - elderly black-and-white tom with a very long tail

**Deputy:** Mudclaw - mottled dark brown tom

_Apprentice, Crowpaw_

**Medicine cat(s):** Barkface - short-tailed brown tom

**Warriors:**

Onewhisker - brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Sheeppaw_

Webfoot - dark grey tabby tom

Briartail - mostly-white she-cat with dark brown tabby tail and chest/muzzle

Tornear - tabby tom

_Apprentice, Seedpaw_

Skyfoot - speckled brown non-binary cat

_Apprentice, Dawnpaw_

Whitetail - small white she-cat

Pigeonleap - grey-and-white she-cat

_Apprentice, Gullpaw_

Beechclaw - brown tabby non-binary cat

Birchtooth - cream tabby tom with long teeth

Gorsetail - brown tom with tawny paws

Silvernose - grey tom

_Apprentice, Fennelpaw_

Hazelpatch - golden-brown tabby tom with white markings

**Apprentices:**

Crowpaw -  dark smoky grey, almost black, tom with blue eyes

Seedpaw - cream tabby non-binary cat

Fennelpaw - pale grey she-cat with long fluffy tail

Dawnpaw - pale brown tom

Gullpaw - grey-and-white she-cat

Sheeppaw - grey-brown tom with very fluffy fur

**Queens:**

Runningbrook - grey tabby she-cat (Shalekit, Darkkit)

Ashfoot - grey she-cat (Mallowkit, Birdkit)

Dustleap - pale brown she-cat (Thistlekit)

Robinwing - light brown she-cat with blue eyes (Weaselkit)

**Elders:**

Morningflower - tortoiseshell she-cat

 Oatwhisker - creamy brown tabby tom 

 Doespring - brown she-cat

Pigeonwing - grey-and-white tom

 

**RiverClan**

**Leader:** Leopardstar - unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat

**Deputy:** Mistyfoot - grey she-cat with blue eyes

**Medicine cat(s):** Mudfur - long-haired light brown tom

_Apprentice, Mothwing_

**Warriors:**

Blackclaw - smoky black tom

_Apprentice, Snailpaw_

Heavystep - thickset tabby tom

_Apprentice, Frostpaw_

Stormfur - dark grey tom with amber eyes

Feathertail - light grey she-cat with blue eyes

Hawkfrost - broad-shouldered dark brown tom

_Apprentice, Daypaw_

Mosspelt - tortoiseshell she-cat

_Apprentice, Rosepaw_

Swallowtail - dark brown tabby she-cat

Sandywhisker - cream tabby tom

Deertalon - soft brown-and-white she-cat with white spotting

_Apprentice, Fawnpaw_

Cloudfall - smoky grey tom with white-tipped fur

Skypoppy - grey-and-black patched non-binary cat

Leafstorm - brown tabby tom

**Apprentices:**

Mothwing - beautiful golden tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Rosepaw - calico non-binary cat with green eyes

Fawnpaw - pale brown tabby tom

Frostpaw - pale grey she-cat

Snailpaw - cream tabby tom

Daypaw - golden-brown tom

**Queens:**

Dawnflower - pale grey she-cat (Volekit, Stonekit, Splashkit)

Redwing - ginger tabby she-cat with white markings

Mistyfoot - see deputy (Reedkit, Pikekit, Ripplekit)

**Elders:**

Shadepelt - very dark grey she-cat

Loudbelly - dark brown tom

Cloverbelly - silver she-cat with green eyes

Brownsplash - brown tabby non-binary cat

 

**Cats outside clans**

Barley - black-and-white tom that lives on a farm close to the forest

Ravenpaw - sleek black cat that lives on the farm with Barley

Purdy - elderly tabby tom that lives in woods near the sea

Princess - light brown tabby she-cat with distinctive white chest and paws

Smoke - grey she-cat who lives in the twolegplace

Cody - brown mackerel tabby she-cat

Hattie - little brown tabby she-cat

 

**StarClan cats**

Bluestar - pale blue-grey she-cat, former ThunderClan leader

Heatherstar - pale pinkish-grey she-cat, former WindClan leader

Crookedstar -  light brown tabby tom with a pale brown belly and a twisted jaw, former RiverClan leader

Brambleberry - snowy-white she-cat with black spots and blue eyes, former RiverClan medicine cat

Yellowfang - dark grey she-cat with orange eyes, former ThunderClan/ShadowClan medicine cat

Oakheart -  dark reddish-brown tom with amber eyes, former RiverClan deputy

Whitestorm -  snowy-white tom with yellow eyes, former ThunderClan deputy

Stonetooth - thin, grey tabby tom with long teeth that curve out from under his lip, former ShadowClan deputy

Deadfoot - black tom with an unusable, twisted left paw, former WindClan deputy

Honey Pelt - yellow-striped white tom with green eyes, former ancient SkyClan warrior

Blue Whisker - splotched, white-and-yellow she-cat with green eyes, former ancient ThunderClan warrior

Bubbling Stream - white she-cat with yellow splotches, former ancient ShadowClan warrior

Spider Paw - white tom with green eyes, former ancient RiverClan warrior

 

* * *

 Night lay upon the forest. There was no moon, but the stars of Silverpelt shed their frosty glitter over the trees. At the bottom of a rocky hollow, a pool reflected the starshine. The air was heavy with the scents of late greenleaf.

Wind sighed softly through the trees and ruffled the quiet surface of the pool. At the top of the hollow, the fronds of bracken parted to reveal four cats. Their details were vague and translucent, glimmering like the stars as they stepped delicately from rock to rock, down to the water’s edge. Two she-cats with white fur and yellow patches first, one with green eyes, one with amber; then two toms, one pure white with broad shoulders, one white with yellow stripes.

Sitting on a flat stone that jutted out over the pool, the four each raised their heads to look around. As if at a signal, more cats began to appear, slipping into the hollow from every direction. They padded down to sit as close to the water as they could, until the lower slopes were filled with lithe shapes gazing down into the pool.

The cats who had appeared first rose to their paws. “A new prophecy has come!” the tallest cat, a yellow-striped tom meowed. “A doom that will change everything has been foretold in the stars by the wisest among us.”

Across the pool, a thin grey tom bowed his head. "We have seen this too. There will be doubt, and a great challenge," he agreed.

“Darkness, air, water, and sky will come together, and shake the forest to its roots,” the first cat went on. “Nothing will be as it is now, nor as it has been before.”

“A great storm is coming,” meowed another voice, and the word storm was taken up, repeated and passed around the circle until it seemed that thunder rumbled through the ranks of watching cats.

As the murmur died away a broad cat with a ragged brown pelt spoke from near the water’s edge. “Can nothing change what is about to happen? Not even the courage and spirit of the greatest warrior?”

“The doom will come,” the amber-eyed cat replied. “But if the Clans meet it like warriors, they may survive.” Lifting her head, she let her luminous gaze travel around the hollow. “You have all seen what must befall,” she meowed. “And you know what must be done. Four cats must be chosen to hold the fate of their Clans in their paws. Are you ready to make your choices before all of StarClan?”

As she finished speaking, the surface of the pool shivered, though there was no wind to disturb it, then was still again.

A bracken-colored tom rose to his paws, starlight turning the fur on his broad shoulders to silver. “I will begin,” he meowed. He glanced sideways to meet the gaze of a lightcolored tabby with a twisted jaw. “Crookedstar, do I have your permission to speak for RiverClan?” Crookedstar bowed his head in agreement, and the bracken-colored tom went on, “Then I invite you all to see and approve my choice.”

He stared down into the water, as motionless as the rocks around him. A pale grey blur appeared on the surface of the pool, and all the cats craned forward to see it more clearly.

“That one?” murmured a blue-grey cat, staring at the shape in the water. “Are you sure, Oakheart?”

The tip of Oakheart’s tail flicked back and forth. “I thought that choice would please you, Bluestar,” he meowed, amusement in his tone. “Do you not think she was well mentored?”

“She was excellently mentored.” Bluestar’s neck fur rose as if he had said something to challenge her, then lay flat again.

The white tom flattened his ears, but did not object out loud. “Does the rest of StarClan agree?” he asked.

A murmur of assent rose from the watching cats, and the pale grey shape thinned and vanished from the water, leaving it clear and empty again.

Now the ragged-furred cat stood up and padded to the very edge of the pool. “Here is my choice,” he announced. “See and approve it.”

This time the shape in the pool was a tall figure patched tawny and pale ginger, with strong, well-muscled shoulders. The amber-eyed she-cat gazed down at the image for some moments before nodding. “She has strength and courage,” she agreed.

“But Raggedstar—does she have loyalty?” called another cat.

Raggedstar’s head whipped around and his claws dug into the ground in front of him. “Are you calling her disloyal?”

“If I do, there’s reason for it.” The answer was shot back. “She was not born in ShadowClan, was she?”

“Then that could make her a good choice,” the amber-eyed she-cat meowed calmly. “If the Clans cannot work together now, they will all be destroyed. Maybe it will take cats with a paw in two Clans to understand what has to be done.” She paused for a moment, but no other objections were forthcoming. “Do StarClan approve?”

There was some hesitation, but it was not too long before soft meows of agreement came from all the assembled cats. The surface of the pool rippled briefly, and when it stilled again the tawny shape had gone.

A small pinkish-grey she-cat got up and approached the water’s edge. “My turn, I think,” she meowed. “See and approve my choice.”

The grey-black shape that formed in the pool was hard to see against the reflection of the night sky, and the cats peered at it for some time before anyone spoke.

“ _What?_ ” Oakheart exclaimed at last. “That’s an apprentice!”

“I had noticed, thank you, Oakheart,” the pinkish-grey she-cat meowed irritably.

“Heatherstar, you can’t send an apprentice into danger such as this,” another cat called from the back of the crowd.

“Apprentice he may be,” Heatherstar retorted, “but he has courage and skill to match many warriors. One day he might make a fine leader of WindClan.”

“One day is not now,” the amber-eyed she-cat pointed out. “And the qualities of a leader are not necessarily those that the Clans need to save them now. Do you wish to make another choice?”

Heatherstar's tail lashed furiously and her neck fur bristled as she glared at the four. “ _This_ is my choice,” she insisted. “Do you—or any other cat—dare to say he is not worthy?”

“What do you say?” The yellow-striped tom's gaze went around the circle. “Do StarClan approve? Remember that every Clan will be lost if one of our chosen cats should weaken or fail."

Instead of a murmur of approval, the cats muttered at each other in small groups, casting uneasy glances at the shape in the pool and at the cat beside it. Heatherstar stared back with fury in her eyes, her fur fluffed up so that she looked twice her size. She was obviously ready to take on any cat who challenged her.

At length the muttering died away and the white tom asked once again, “Does the Clan approve?” The assent came, but it was low and reluctant, and a few cats did not speak at all. Heatherstar let out an ill-tempered growl as she turned and padded back to her place.

When the water was clear again Oakheart meowed, “You have not yet made your choice for ThunderClan, Bluestar.”

“No—but I am ready now,” she replied. “See and approve my choice.” She gazed down proudly as a dark tabby shape formed in the depths of the pool.

Oakheart stared at it, and stretched his jaws wide in a soundless mew of laughter. “That one! Bluestar, you never cease to surprise me.”

“Why?” Bluestar’s tone showed she was nettled. “He is a noble young cat, fit for the challenges this prophecy will bring.”

Oakheart’s ears twitched. “Did I say he was not?”

Bluestar held his gaze, not looking at the other cats as she demanded, “Well?"

The green-eyed she-cat's tail twitched a bit with amusement, but she made no other reaction. "Does the Clan approve?” When the agreement came, strong and certain, Bluestar gave Oakheart a contemptuous flick of her tail and looked away.

“Cats of StarClan,” the amber-eyed she-cat meowed, raising her voice. “Your choices have been made. Now we shall make our choices."

The cats below began to yowl angrily, but quieted when the white tom stepped forward. "The fate of the clans rests in our paws. More then just the boundaries of clans need to be stepped over. Too long have secrets remained even in the afterlife; the clans below have thus been guided by the youngest and blindest in StarClan, while the eldest and wisest hide. The cats chosen have much potential, but four will not be enough."

"Four has never been enough," the yellow-striped tom spat. "It has always been--"

"Enough, Honey Pelt," the green-eyed she-cat meowed, resting her tail on Honey Pelt's back. "It is not SkyClan's time." She stood and padded down to the water's edge, cats moving aside to create a clear path. She stood and faced the still water. Once again, an image of a dark tabby shape formed in the water. "This warrior is young, but brave. He can accomplish much, but his past is shadowed with suspicions. He needs a steady mind to balance out his temper." A light grey shape appeared beside the tabby. "Do StarClan approve?"

The cats muttered unhappily, but after a few minutes, the muttering died down. A moment of silence, then voices of assent rose, quiet at first then louder. The green-eyed she-cat returned to the stone, and Honey Pelt went to the pool in her stead. 

He looked down at the pool, his ears still flat, and again the grey-black shape appeared. "This apprentice may be young, but he has seen things in his time and is willing to sacrifice for the sake of the clan. But he will be unwilling to open up to others outside his clan, and one clan alone cannot survive, they must be together."  A taller shape, this one tortoiseshell, appeared. "Do StarClan approve?"

A pale grey tom rose, his long tail lashing irritably. "Why an elder?" he rasped.

Honey Pelt gave him a stern look. "I'm surprised by you, Cloudrunner. Are you not Morningflower's mate? I would think you would be pleased."

"Morningflower is wise, but she is also old. She deserves rest in her final seasons, not a long journey," a black tom argued, rising up unsteadily on three good paws and one twisted paw.

"She isn't old," Heatherstar meowed quietly, "She grieves."

A brown-speckled dark grey tom rose, his whiskers twitching. "Barkface sees much, but he does not see everything. Morningflower will be fine, and she will be all the better for this journey."

When no more protests rose, Honey Pelt spoke again. "Do StarClan approve?"

When a mumur of assent rose, Honey Pelt returned to the stone, and the white tom took his place. A pale grey cat appeared on the surface. "This warrior is kind and open to change. She will help keep the group together. But many will mistrust what she has to say, for her mixed blood. She needs one who was raised away from such blood-feuding, and trusted by the clan to tell the truth." A golden tabby appeared alongside the first shape. "Do StarClan approve?"

There was muttering for a moment, then sounds of agreement rose up in the crowd. The white tom bowed his head, his fur flattening with relief, then the amber-eyed she-cat took his place. Once again the tawny shape appeared. "This warrior is fierce and strong; she embodies her clans ideals. But she too will be mistrusted for her place of birth, and she will lash out at those who doubt it, halting any progress. She needs one with ties in the clan, who will be believed, and who will believe others." A much smaller shape appeared, thin and brown with tabby markings. 

"Do you want ShadowClan to die?" an angry cat demanded in the crowd. "ShadowClan can't survive without it's only medicine cat."

"ShadowClan is strong, and will survive," the amber-eyed she-cat meowed calmly, "But without him, the group may never succeed. Do StarClan approve?"

Once the cats meowed agreement, however reluctantly, the amber-eyed she-cat returned to stand with her siblings.

"Soon the journey must begin, to meet the terrible storm that will be released on the forest. Go to your Clans, and make sure each cat is ready.” She paused, and her eyes blazed with a fierce golden light. “We can choose two warriors to save each Clan, but beyond that we cannot help them. Any prophecies concerning them, any omens that appear of them; we can do nothing to affect their fates. May the spirits of all our warrior ancestors go with these cats, wherever the stars may lead them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first couple of chapters are almost identical to the book with slight changes that will build up. Also, there's a sentence in the first chapter that makes utterly NO sense. According to Brambleclaw, in Midnight Squirrelpaw is a new apprentice. He ALSO says in the same sentence that she's eight moons old. I mean, that's definitely not senior apprentice material, but she's still not exactly a new apprentice like Brambleclaw is suggesting she is...

_Leaves rustled as the young tabby cat slid through a gap between two bushes, his jaws wide open to drink in the scent of prey. On this warm night in late greenleaf, the forest was full of the scuffles of tiny creatures. Movements twitched endlessly at the edge of his vision, but when he turned his head he could see nothing but thick clumps of fern and bramble, dappled with moonlight._

_Suddenly he stepped out into a wide clearing and gazed around in confusion. He could not remember being in this part of the forest before. Smooth-cropped grass, glowing silver in a cold wash of moonlight, stretched in front of him as far as a softly rounded rock where another cat was sitting. Starlight sparkled in her fur, and her eyes were two small moons._

_The young tabby’s bewilderment increased as he recognized her. “Bluestar?” he meowed, his voice shrill with disbelief._

_He had been an apprentice when the great leader of ThunderClan had died, four seasons ago, leaping into the gorge with a pack of blood-hungry dogs after her. Like all her Clan, he had grieved for her and honored her for the way she had given up her life to save them. He had never thought to see her again, and he realized for the first time that he must be dreaming._

_“Come closer, young warrior,” Bluestar meowed. “I have a message for you.”_

_Shivering with awe, the tabby tom crept across the shining stretch of turf until he crouched below the rock and could look up into Bluestar’s eyes._

_“I’m listening, Bluestar,” he mewed._

_“A time of trouble is coming to the forest,” she told him. “A new prophecy must be fulfilled if the Clans are to survive. You have been chosen to meet with seven other cats at the new moon, and you must listen to what midnight tells you.”_

_“What do you mean? Why so many cats?” The young cat felt a prickle of dread, cold as snowmelt, creep down his spine. “What kind of trouble? And how can midnight tell us anything?”_

_“All will be made clear to you,” Bluestar replied._

_Her voice faded, echoing strangely as if she were speaking from a cavern far beneath the earth. The moonlight also began to grow dim, leaving thick black shadows to creep out of the trees around them._

_“No, wait!” the tabby cat cried out. “Don’t go!”_

He let out a terrified yowl, thrashing his paws and tail, as darkness rose up and engulfed him. Something poked him in the side and his eyes flew open to see Graystripe, the ThunderClan deputy, standing over him with one paw raised to prod him again. He was scuffling among the moss in the warriors’ den, with the golden sunlight leaking through the branches above his head. 

“Brambleclaw, you crazy furball!” the deputy meowed. “What’s all the noise about? You’ll scare off all the prey from here to Fourtrees.”

“Sorry.” Brambleclaw sat up and began picking scraps of moss from his dark fur. “I was just dreaming.” 

“Dreaming!” grunted a new voice.

Brambleclaw turned his head to see the white warrior Cloudtail heave himself out of a mossy nest nearby and give a long stretch. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Firestar,” Cloudtail went on. “When he slept in here he was always muttering and twitching in his sleep. A cat couldn’t get a good night’s rest for all the prey in the forest.”

Brambleclaw twitched his ears to hear how disrespectfully the white warrior spoke about the Clan leader. Then he reminded himself that this was Cloudtail, Firestar’s kin and former apprentice, well known for his barbed tongue and ready scorn. His impudent talk didn’t stop him from being a loyal warrior to his Clan.

Cloudtail gave his long-furred white coat a shake and slipped out of the den, flicking the end of his tail at Brambleclaw in a friendly way to take the sting out of his words as he went by.

“Come on, you lot,” meowed Graystripe. “It’s time you were moving.” He picked his way through the moss on the floor of the den to prod Ashfur awake. “Hunting patrols will be going out soon. Brackenfur is organizing them.”

“Right,” Brambleclaw mewed. His vision of Bluestar was fading, though her ominous message echoed in his ears. Could it really be true that there was a new prophecy from StarClan? It seemed fairly unlikely. For a start, Brambleclaw could not imagine why she would choose to give it to him, of all the cats in ThunderClan. Medicine cats frequently received signs from StarClan, and ThunderClan’s leader, Firestar, had often been guided by his dreams. But they were not for ordinary warriors. Trying to blame his wild imaginings on too much fresh-kill the night before, Brambleclaw gave his shoulder one last lick and followed Cloudtail out through the trailing branches.

The sun was barely up above the hedge of thorns that surrounded the camp, but the day was already warm. Sunlight lay like honey on the bare earth in the center of the clearing. Sorrelpaw, the oldest of the apprentices, lay stretched out beside the ferns that sheltered the apprentices’ den, sharing tongues with two of her den mates Spiderpaw and Shrewpaw.

Cloudtail had gone over to the nettle patch where the warriors ate and was already gulping down a starling. Brambleclaw noticed that the pile of fresh-kill was very low; as Graystripe had said, the Clan needed to hunt right away. Sootfur was leaving the elder's den and padding over to where Ashfur sat beckoning him over. Brambleclaw was about to go and join his denmates when Sorrelpaw sprang up and came bounding across the clearing toward him.

“It’s today!” she announced excitedly.

Brambleclaw blinked. “What is?”

“My warrior ceremony!” With a little _mrrow_ of happiness, the tortoiseshell she-cat hurled herself at Brambleclaw; the unexpected attack bowled him over and they wrestled together on the dusty ground, just as they used to when they were kits together in the nursery.

Sorrelpaw’s hind paws battered Brambleclaw in the belly, and he thanked StarClan that her claws were sheathed. There was no doubt that she would make a strong and dangerous warrior, one that every cat would respect.

“All right, all right, that’s enough.” Brambleclaw cuffed Sorrelpaw gently over one ear and scrambled up. “If you’re going to be a warrior, you’ll have to stop behaving like a kit.”

“A kit?” Sorrelpaw meowed indignantly. She sat in front of him, her fur sticking up in clumps and covered with dust. “Me? Never! I’ve waited a long time for this, Brambleclaw.”

“I know. You deserve it.”

Sorrelpaw had ventured too close to the Thunderpath while she was chasing a squirrel in newleaf. A Twoleg monster had struck her a glancing blow, injuring her shoulder. While she lay in Cinderpelt’s den for three long, uncomfortable moons, under the gentle care of the medicine cat, her brothers, Sootfur and Rainwhisker, had become warriors. Sorrelpaw had been determined to follow them as soon as Cinderpelt declared her fit enough to begin training again; Brambleclaw had watched how hard she had worked with her mentor, Sandstorm, until her shoulder was as good as new. She had never shown any bitterness at being forced to train for several moons longer than the usual apprenticeship. She really deserved her warrior ceremony.

“I’ve just taken fresh-kill to Ferncloud,” she meowed to Brambleclaw. “Her kits are beautiful! Have you seen them yet?”

“No, not yet,” Brambleclaw replied. Ferncloud’s second litter of kits had been born only the day before.

“Go now,” Sorrelpaw urged him. “You’ve just enough time before we hunt.” She sprang up and danced a few steps sideways, as if all her energy had to go somewhere.

Brambleclaw set off for the nursery, which was hidden in the depths of a bramble thicket near the center of the camp. He squeezed through the narrow entrance, wincing as thorns scraped against his broad shoulders. Inside it was warm and quiet. Ferncloud was lying on her side in a deep nest of moss. Her green eyes glowed as she gazed at the three tiny kits curled up snugly in the curve of her body: one was pale gray like her, the other two brown tabbies like their father, Dustpelt. He was in the nursery too, crouched beside Ferncloud with his paws tucked under him, occasionally rasping his tongue affectionately over her ear.

“Hi, there, Brambleclaw,” he meowed as the younger warrior appeared. “Come to see the new kits?” He looked ready to burst with pride, quite different from his usual prickly, detached air.

“They’re beautiful,” Brambleclaw mewed, touching noses with Ferncloud in greeting. “When will you choose names for them?” Queens usually waited a while to name their kits, especially in leafbare when kits were the first to die from cold and lack of food.

Ferncloud shook her head, blinking drowsily up at him. “When their eyes change color, I think. I'm not sure.”

“There’s time enough for that.” Goldenflower, the oldest ThunderClan queen and Brambleclaw’s own mother, spoke sternly from her mossy bed. She had no kits of her own to nurser, but she had decided to stay in the nursery and share the care of the new arrivals instead of taking up her warrior duties again; she was nearing the time when she would go to join the elders in their den, and was the first to admit that her hearing and eyesight were no longer sharp enough to keep up with the best hunting patrols. “They’re strong, healthy kits, that’s what matters, and Ferncloud has plenty of milk. It's the middle of greenleaf, so there's no reason for them not to reach apprenticehood in the peak of health.”

Brambleclaw respectfully dipped his head to her. “She’s lucky to have you to help look after them.”

“Well, I didn’t do too bad a job with you,” Goldenflower purred proudly. Brambleclaw bent to nuzzle the top of his mother's head, then stood.

“There’s something you could do for me,” Dustpelt meowed to Brambleclaw as he was leaving.

“Sure, if I can.”

“Keep an eye on Squirrelpaw, would you? I want to spend a day or two with Ferncloud, while the kits are still so small, but Squirrelpaw shouldn’t be left without a mentor for too long.”

 _Squirrelpaw!_ Brambleclaw groaned inwardly. Firestar’s daughter, eight moons old and the biggest nuisance in ThunderClan. 

“It’ll be good practice for when you have an apprentice of your own,” Dustpelt added, as if he sensed his Clan mate’s reluctance.

Brambleclaw knew that Dustpelt was right. He hoped that Firestar would choose him to be a mentor before much longer, with an apprentice of his own to train in the warrior code, but he also hoped that his apprentice would not be some smart-aleck ginger she-cat who thought she knew it all. He was well aware that Squirrelpaw would not take kindly to orders coming from him.

“Okay, Dustpelt,” he meowed. “I’ll do my best.” When Brambleclaw emerged from the nursery he saw that more cats had appeared in the clearing. Brightheart, a pretty white she-cat with ginger patches on her fur like fallen leaves, had just chosen a piece of fresh-kill from the remains of the pile and was taking it across to where Cloudtail still sat by the nettle patch. The uninjured side of her face was turned to Brambleclaw, so that he could almost forget the disfiguring wounds she had received when the dog pack roamed the forest. One side of her face was seamed with scars, and her ear had been shredded; there was only a gouge mark where her eye should be. Even though she survived the vicious attack, the Clan had feared that she would never be a warrior. It was Cloudtail who had trained with her and worked out ways of making up for her blindness on that side, even turning it into a strength, so that now she could fight and hunt as well as any cat. Firestar had even assigned her to mentor Nutpaw, who was Firestar and Sandstorm's youngest son. Nutpaw was very different from Squirrelpaw, being lean and dark and serious. Brambleclaw wouldn't have minded being asked to watch him for a few days.

Cloudtail greeted her with a flick of his tail and she sat beside him to eat.

“Brambleclaw! There you are!” Brambleclaw turned and saw a long-legged ginger warrior heading toward him from the direction of the warriors’ den.

He padded over to meet him. “Hi, Brackenfur. Graystripe said you’re organizing hunting patrols. Dustpelt asked me to keep an eye on Squirrelpaw while he's in the nursery.”

“That’s fine,” Brackenfur meowed. "I was going to ask you if Squirrelpaw could join your patrol anyway."

He angled his ears toward the apprentices’ den, and Brambleclaw noticed for the first time that Squirrelpaw was half-concealed in the shade of the ferns. She sat tall, her tail curled around her paws, her green eyes following a bright-winged butterfly. When Brackenfur beckoned her with his tail, she got up and strolled across the clearing, her tail straight up and her dark ginger fur gleaming in the sunlight.

“Hunting patrol,” Brackenfur explained briefly. “Dustpelt is busy, so you're going with Brambleclaw." He turned to Brambleclaw. "Can you find a few others to go with you?” Brambleclaw nodded, and Brackenfur hurried off toward Sandstorm and Sorrelpaw.

Squirrelpaw yawned and stretched. “Well,” she meowed. “Where shall we go?”

“I thought Sunningrocks,” Brambleclaw began. “Then we can—”

“Sunningrocks?” Squirrelpaw interrupted, her eyes stretching wide in disbelief. “Are you mouse-brained? On a day as hot as this, all the prey will be hiding down cracks. We won’t catch so much as a whisker.”

“It’s still early,” Brambleclaw replied crossly. “The prey will be out for a while yet.”

Squirrelpaw let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly, Brambleclaw, you always think you know better than anyone else.”

“Well, I am a warrior,” Brambleclaw pointed out, and knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

Squirrelpaw bowed her head in deep and exaggerated respect. “Yes, O Great One,” she meowed. “I shall do exactly what you say. And when we come back empty-pawed, maybe you’ll admit that I was right.”

“Well, then,” Brambleclaw mewed, “if you’re so clever, where do you think we should hunt?”

“Up toward Fourtrees, by the stream,” Squirrelpaw replied promptly. “That’s a much better place.”

Brambleclaw was even more annoyed when he realized that she might be right. In spite of the endless hot days that had lasted all greenleaf, the stream there still ran cool and deep, with thick clumps of reeds where prey could hide. He hesitated, wondering how he could change his mind without losing face in front of the apprentice.

“Squirrelpaw.” A new voice rescued him, and Brambleclaw realized that Sandstorm, Squirrelpaw’s mother, had padded over to join them. “Stop ruffling Brambleclaw’s fur. You chatter as much as a nest of jackdaws.” Her annoyed green gaze turned on Brambleclaw and she added, “And you’re just as bad. The pair of you are always squabbling; you can’t be trusted to hunt together if you can’t even get out of the clearing without scaring half the prey between here and Fourtrees.”

“Sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered, embarrassment sweeping through his fur from ears to tail-tip.

“You’re a warrior; you should know better. Go and ask Cloudtail if you can hunt with him. And as for you,” Sandstorm meowed to her daughter, “you can come and hunt with me. Dustpelt won’t mind. And you’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll know the reason why.”

Without looking back, she headed straight for the gorse tunnel that led out of the camp, joining up with Brackenfur as he approached the gorse tunnel. Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, a sulky look in her green eyes, and scuffed the ground with her forepaws.

Sorrelpaw came up and gave her a friendly nudge. “Come on,” she urged. “This is my last hunt as an apprentice. Let’s make it a good one.”

Reluctantly Squirrelpaw nodded, and the two cats set off together after Sandstorm; the dark ginger apprentice shot a last glare at Brambleclaw as she passed him.

Brambleclaw shrugged. Squirrelpaw would get more experienced mentoring from Sandstorm than she would from him, so he wasn’t letting Dustpelt down even though the warrior had asked him to keep an eye on her. And he wouldn’t have to listen all morning to her annoying chatter, so he wasn’t sure why he felt slightly disappointed at being set on a different patrol.

Pushing off the feeling, he bounded over to the nettle patch where Cloudtail and Brightheart were finishing their prey. Their single kit, Whitepaw, had just padded across to join them; as Brambleclaw came up he heard her say, “Are you going hunting? Please can I come with you?”

Cloudtail flicked his tail. “No.” Whitepaw had begun to look disappointed when he added, “Brackenfur said he’d take you. He is your mentor, after all.”

“He told me he’s really proud of you,” Brightheart purred.

Whitepaw brightened up. “Great! I’ll go find him.”

Cloudtail gave her an affectionate cuff over the ear with one paw before she dashed off, her tail waving excitedly.

Brambleclaw hoped that didn’t mean that Cloudtail and Brightheart wanted to go out alone. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Sure, you can come,” Cloudtail replied. "Is Ravenpaw joining us, Brightheart?" he asked his mate.

Brightheart shook her head. "He's helping Leafpaw dig up ginger." Cloudtail stood up and nodded in response to Brightheart, then the three cats trotted together across the clearing toward the gorse tunnel.

Just before he headed into the close-growing thorns, Brambleclaw glanced over his shoulder at the quiet activity going on in the camp. Every cat looked well fed, sleek furred, and confident that their territory was safe. Bluestar’s message came back to echo in his mind. Could it be true that some great trouble was coming upon the forest? Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle with foreboding. He decided that he would not tell any cat about the dream. That seemed like the only way he could convince himself that it meant nothing, and there was no new prophecy coming to disrupt life in the forest as they knew it.

 

The sun was setting in a ball of fire, turning the tops of the trees to flame and sending long shadows across the clearing. Brambleclaw stretched and sighed with satisfaction. He was tired after the long day’s hunting, but his stomach was comfortably full. All the Clan had fed too, and there was an ample pile of fresh-kill. Greenleaf had been longer and hotter than any cat could remember, but the forest was still full of prey, and there was plenty of water in the stream close to Fourtrees.

 _A good day,_ Brambleclaw thought contentedly. _This is how life should be._

The rest of the Clan was beginning to slip out into the clearing and gather around the Highrock, and Brambleclaw realized it was time for Sorrelpaw’s warrior ceremony. He padded closer to the Highrock and sat down close to Ferncloud’s brother, Ashfur, who gave him a friendly nod. Graystripe was already sitting at the base of the rock, looking as proud as if his own apprentice were about to be made a warrior. Graystripe had fathered two kits, but they had grown up in RiverClan, where their mother had been born. He had no kits in ThunderClan, but liked to keep an eye on the progress of all the young cats.

As Brambleclaw watched, the deputy was joined by Cinderpelt, the medicine cat, and her apprentice, Leafpaw, Squirrelpaw’s sister. She looked nothing like Squirrelpaw; she was smaller and slighter, with pale tabby fur and a white chest and paws. She looked nothing like her brothers, either, who were a pale reddish-brown tabby and a tortoiseshell, respectively, but Brambleclaw had once met Firestars sister and the kittypet was the spitting image of Leafpaw. The sisters were not much alike in character either. When Leafpaw sat down and tipped her head to one side to listen to what her mentor and the deputy were saying to each other, Brambleclaw wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to be so quiet and attentive when her littermates never stopped talking. Nutpaw and Redpaw may have been less troublesome then Squirrelpaw, but they, too, rarely stopped for breath.

At last Firestar, the Clan leader, appeared from his den at the other side of the Highrock. He was a strong, lithe warrior, his pelt blazing like flame in the light of the setting sun. After pausing for a word with Graystripe, he bunched his muscles and leaped to the top of the Highrock, from where he could look down on the Clan.

“Cats of ThunderClan!” he announced. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

Most of the cats were there already, but as Firestar’s voice echoed around the clearing the last of the Clan members slid out from their dens and trotted over to join the others. Sootfur came to sit next to Brambleclaw and Ashfur, hastily licking down an errant clump of fur. 

Last of all came Sorrelpaw with her mentor, Sandstorm. Her tortoiseshell fur was freshly groomed, her white chest and paws shining like snow. Her amber eyes gleamed with pride and suppressed excitement as she paced across the clearing. Beside her, Sandstorm looked just as proud; Brambleclaw knew how much the ginger she-cat had suffered when she had seen her apprentice lying injured on the Thunderpath. They had both needed courage and perseverance to reach this ceremony.

Firestar sprang down from the Highrock to meet the apprentice and her mentor. “Sandstorm,” he began, using the formal words that had been handed down through all the Clans, “are you satisfied that this apprentice is ready to become a warrior of ThunderClan?”

Sandstorm inclined her head. “She will be a warrior the Clan can be proud of,” she replied.

Firestar raised his eyes to where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear in the evening sky. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice.” The Clan was hushed as his voice rang out across the clearing. “She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.” He turned to Sorrelpaw, locking his gaze with hers. “Sorrelpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Remembering how he had felt at this moment in his own warrior ceremony, Brambleclaw watched Sorrelpaw’s whole body quiver with anticipation as she lifted her chin and replied clearly, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Sorrelpaw, from this moment you will be known as Sorreltail. StarClan honors your courage and your patience, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Stepping forward, Firestar rested his muzzle on top of Sorreltail’s head. In return she gave his shoulder a respectful lick before backing away.

The rest of the warriors gathered around her, welcoming her and calling her by her new name. “Sorreltail! Sorreltail!” Her brothers, Sootfur and Rainwhisker, were among the first, their eyes gleaming with pride that their sister had finally joined them as a warrior.

Firestar waited until the noise had died down. “Sorreltail, according to tradition you must keep vigil in silence tonight, and watch over the camp.”

“While the rest of us get a good night’s sleep,” Cloudtail added. The Clan leader flashed him a warning glance but said nothing as the cats parted to let Sorreltail take up her position in the middle of the clearing. She sat with her tail curled around her paws and her gaze fixed on the darkening sky, where the light of Silverpelt grew steadily stronger.

With the ceremony over, the rest of the cats slipped away into the shadows. Brambleclaw stretched and yawned, looking forward to his comfortable nest in the warriors’ den, but content to stay in the clearing for a while to enjoy the warm evening. He could not see any signs that other cats had shared his disturbing dream; and yet Bluestar had suggested that three other cats would be involved in the new prophecy. Brambleclaw felt a purr rising into his throat, half-amused by how quickly he had believed that a cat from StarClan had visited him in his dreams. That would teach him to gulp down fresh-kill just before he went to sleep.

“Brambleclaw.” Firestar padded over and settled down beside him. “Cloudtail says you hunted well today.”

“Thank you, Firestar.”

The leader’s gaze was fixed on his daughters, Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, who were heading toward the pile of fresh-kill.

“Do you miss Tawnypelt?” Firestar meowed unexpectedly.

Brambleclaw blinked in surprise. Tawnypelt was his sister; the former ThunderClan deputy, Tigerstar, had fathered them before he had been banished from the Clan for trying to seize power from Bluestar, who was leader then. Later Tigerstar had made himself leader of ShadowClan, only to be killed by a rogue cat in a failed attempt to extend his power over the whole forest. Tawnypelt had always felt that ThunderClan blamed her for her father’s crimes, and she had made the decision to join ShadowClan shortly after he became that Clan’s leader.

“Yes,” Brambleclaw replied. “Yes, Firestar, I miss her every day.” Was Firestar worried that Brambleclaw's loyalties were divided?

“I didn’t understand how you might feel about her. Not until I saw how close my kits are.” Firestar nodded toward the two sister apprentices, who were choosing prey from the pile. Nearby, Nutpaw, a pale reddish-brown tabby tom, wrestled with his brother. 

“Firestar, you’re not being fair to yourself,” Brambleclaw insisted uncomfortably. “After all, you miss your sister, don’t you?” he dared to add.

Firestar had begun life as a kittypet before he joined ThunderClan, and his sister, Princess, still lived with Twolegs. Firestar visited her from time to time, and Brambleclaw knew very well how important they were to each other. Princess had given Firestar her firstborn kit to raise as a warrior—and that was Cloudtail, Brightheart’s loving mate and one of the best trackers in the clan.

The Clan leader tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Of course I miss Princess,” he meowed at last. “But she’s a kittypet. She could never live this kind of life. You must wish that Tawnypelt had stayed here in ThunderClan.”

“I guess I do,” Brambleclaw admitted. “But she’s happier where she is.”

“That’s true.” Firestar nodded. “The most important thing is that you’ve both found a Clan where you can be loyal.”

A warm feeling crept through Brambleclaw. Once Firestar and many other warriors had doubted his loyalty because he looked so much like his father, Tigerstar, with the same muscular body and dark tabby pelt, the same amber eyes. But with the support of his denmates and his mother, Brambleclaw had stayed and worked to change his clanmates minds. Firestar's words proved that he had succeeded.

Brambleclaw suddenly wondered if a truly loyal Clan cat would mention the disturbing dream and Bluestar’s warning that great trouble was coming to the forest. He was trying to find the words to start when Firestar stood up, dipped his head briefly in farewell, and padded over to where Sandstorm was sitting with Graystripe near the Highrock.

Brambleclaw almost followed him, but then he reminded himself that if StarClan really wanted to send a prophecy of great danger, they would not give it to one of the youngest, least experienced warriors in the Clan. They would tell the medicine cat, or perhaps the Clan leader himself. And obviously Firestar and Cinderpelt had not received an omen, or they would be telling the Clan what to do about it. No, Brambleclaw told himself again, there was nothing whatsoever to worry about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come up with various ideas for clan stuff, including geese. I was thinking about swans, which would be found in RiverClan territory, but are considered scary even to humans. Also, they're birds, which RiverClan doesn't usually hunt, but according to a lot of stuff I've read, taste very fishy, so the other clans wouldn't like them. So I decided what made the most sense was that WindClan and RiverClan have a tradition of creating joint patrols to hunt large birds during leaf-fall and newleaf, during bird migration (though they don't know exactly why birds fly by in such large quantities). Swans go to RiverClan, geese to WindClan, and they split the ducks.
> 
> Also, I'm doing brief morning things at the beginning of the first eight chapters to show each prophecy cat being told and their brief reaction scene afterwards.

_The grassy hills shone silver in the moonlight, in a way they never would in real life, even on the brightest night. Morningflower knew these hills as well as she knew her own paws; she saw them every time she closed her eyes, which was often these days. Morningflower found herself easily tired often these days, her paws sluggish and movements awkward. There was no way she could catch a rabbit at her speed. Yet in her dreams, Morningflower was able to run as swift as the wind itself, faster than any warrior in WindClan, faster than she had ever run before._

_Morningflower picked her way through clumps of grass, enjoying the crisp scents of greenleaf she missed from being in the elder's den. WindClan had a history of shame when it came to their elders. WindClan warriors survived because they were born fast and tough; fast enough to catch rabbits aboveground and out-run cave-ins underground; tough enough to sleep out in the open air in all weather, leaving them the most open to StarClans guidance. Cats who were too pregnant, young, or old to run...typically got shoved out of the way in a den to be forgotten._

_Reaching the bottom of a dip, Morningflower looked up at the hill ahead, only to see a figure standing at the top, watching her impassively. Suddenly apprehensive, Morningflower climbed the hill. When she reached the top, the cat stood, and Morningflower found herself standing above a small, thin she-cat with soft pink-tinted grey fur and sharp blue eyes. Despite being shorter than Morningflower by a whole head, she radiated power and made Morningflower feel as small as a kit. "Who are you?" Morningflower asked hesitantly._

_The she-cat's ears twitched. "I am Heatherstar," she responded, her voice smooth as honey. "I have a message for you, Morningflower, one you must remember."_

_Morningflower, bemused, lowered to her belly so she was at eye level with Heatherstar. She knew who Heatherstar was, of course. Heatherstar was the leader of WindClan before Tallstar, but Morningflower had been born after she died. "What is the message?"_

_A time of trouble is coming to the moor,” Heatherstar told her. “A new prophecy must be fulfilled if the Clans are to survive. You have been chosen to meet with seven other cats at the new moon, and you must listen to what midnight tells you."_

_Morningflower backed up a step, her fur bushing out in fear. "Survive?" she echoed. "Survive what? And why me?" Morningflower demanded. "What can I do?"_

_"All will be made clear to you," Heatherstar replied, her fur sleek and unruffled by Morningflowers words. Morningflower wanted to keep asking questions, but her surroundings were turning to mist and darkness, and Heatherstars fur grew paler and paler until she vanished altogether._

Morningflower sat up in her nest, to discover a ray of sunlight had shone right down on her eyes, waking her up abruptly. The elders den was empty. Presumably, the others had decided to go out to take advantage of the greenleaf sun. Considering the time of day, it was likely that the apprentices were out training or on patrol, so Morningflower left the den, legs stiff from disuse, to go peruse the contents of the fresh-kill pile.

 The camp was mostly empty of warriors, except for a few senior warriors sleeping in their nests who Morningflower picked her way around, and some of the youngest warriors sharing a large rabbit by the fresh-kill pile. The queens were outside the nursery, watching their kits play and practice racing. Ashfoot was watching anxiously as two small kits play-wrestled. Ashfoot had Onestar had been brought to the clan as kits and raised by Morningflowers mother, so Morningflower was close with Ashfoot and her kits. Ashfoot had given birth earlier than expected, and her kits were small for their age, so Ashfoot was understandably worried. They'd been sired by one of the greenleaf visitors, who themselves had also left earlier than normal.

Doespring kept muttering about how the greenleaf visitors leaving early always meant a hard leafbare. Morningflower tried to ignore Doesprings superstitious ramblings. Just because the loners had decided they didn't want to stay as long this year, didn't mean bad things would happen. Just because Morningflower had a dream about Heatherstar, didn't mean bad things would happen. Morningflower was old, she had strange dreams.

No cat had objected when she chose to retire. She wasn't fast enough to be a hunter, and if Gorsepaws death had taught her anything, she wasn't strong enough to be a mother, either. She wouldn't put any more kits through what her last litter went through. Storkkit and Quailkit, dying of starvation and sickness because they were born in a tunnel under a Thunderpath. Gorsepaw, making it to apprenticehood only to be brutally slaughtered. Even Cloudrunner, her mate, hadn't escaped death, killed protecting an apprentice when they fled. Morningflower never wanted that pain again.

 When she reached the fresh-kill pile, she discovered it was mostly empty. Two small birds, a mouse, and what looked like a young plover. Morningflower snorted, then took the plover and went to sit and eat in a shady patch. She was certainly looking forward to the leaf-fall bird hunting. One fully-grown goose could feed the entire nursery for almost three days, and the feathers made leaf-bare nests comfortable and warm. WindClan may be going through a slump, but that meant nothing. There was no reason for the clan to be in danger. None.

* * *

 The sun had not yet risen when Brambleclaw set out with the dawn patrol. Even in the few days since Sorreltail’s warrior ceremony, the leaves had begun to turn to gold and the first chill of leaf-fall lay on the forest, though it still hadn’t rained for longer than a moon. The young warrior shivered as long grasses, heavy with dew, brushed against his fur. Cobwebs spread a grey film over the bushes, and the air was filled with damp, leafy scents. The twittering of waking birds began to drown out the soft padding of the cats’ paws.

Brightheart’s brother, Thornclaw, who was in the lead, paused to look back at Brambleclaw and Ashfur. “Firestar wants us to check Snakerocks, so no apprentices on this patrol,” he meowed, his golden-brown tabby fur fluffing up. “Watch out for adders. There are more of them since the weather has been so hot.” 

Brambleclaw instinctively unsheathed his claws. The adders would be hidden in cracks now, but as soon as the sun came up the warmth would tempt them out again. One bite from those poisoned jaws could kill a warrior before a medicine cat could do anything to help.

Before they had gone very far Brambleclaw began to hear faint sounds behind him, as if something were moving around in the undergrowth. He paused, glancing back in the hope of an easy bit of prey. At first he could see nothing; then he noticed the fronds of a thick clump of fern waving about, though there was no breeze. He sniffed the air, opening his jaws to drink it in, before letting the breath out again with a sigh.

“Come out, Squirrelpaw,” he meowed.

There was a moment’s silence. Then the bracken waved again and the stems parted as the dark ginger she-cat came out into the open. Her green eyes glared defiance.

“What’s going on?” Thornclaw padded up to Brambleclaw, with Ashfur just behind him.

Brambleclaw indicated the apprentice with a flick of his tail. “I heard something behind us,” he explained. “She must have followed us from the camp.”

“Don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here!” Squirrelpaw protested hotly.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Brambleclaw retorted; somehow Squirrelpaw had only to open her mouth for him to feel that his fur was being rubbed the wrong way.

“Stop bickering, the pair of you,” Thornclaw growled. Behind him, Ashfur muffled a _mrrt_ of amusement. Brambleclaw scowled at the pale grey tom. _Some friend._  “You’re not kits anymore. Squirrelpaw, tell us what you’re doing. Did some cat send you with a message?”

“She wouldn’t have been skulking in the bracken if they had,” Brambleclaw couldn’t resist pointing out.

“No, they didn’t,” Squirrelpaw meowed with a resentful glance at Brambleclaw. Her paws scuffled in the grass. “I wanted to come with you, that’s all. I haven’t been on a patrol for ages.”

“And you weren’t told to come on this one,” Thornclaw replied. “Does Dustpelt know you’re here?”

“No,” Squirrelpaw admitted. “He promised last night we’d do some training, but every cat knows he spends all day in the nursery with Ferncloud and their kits.”

“Not anymore,” Ashfur mewed. “Not since the kits opened their eyes. Squirrelpaw, I think you might be in trouble if Dustpelt goes looking for you.”

“You’d better go back to camp right away,” Thornclaw decided.

Anger flared up in Squirrelpaw’s eyes, and she took a step forward that brought her nose-to-nose with Thornclaw. “You’re not my mentor, so don’t order me around!”

Thornclaw’s nostrils flared minutely as he let out a patient sigh, and Brambleclaw admired his self-control. If Squirrelpaw had spoken to him like that, he would have been tempted to rake his claws over her ear.

Even Squirrelpaw seemed to realize she had gone too far. “I’m sorry, Thornclaw,” she meowed. “But it’s true I haven’t been on patrol for days. Please can I come?”

Thornclaw exchanged a glance with Ashfur and Brambleclaw. “All right,” he mewed. “But don’t blame me if Dustpelt turns you into crowfood when we get back.”

Squirrelpaw gave a little skip of excitement. “Thank you, Thornclaw! Where are we going? Are we looking for anything special? Is there going to be trouble?”

Thornclaw swished his tail across her mouth to silence her. “Snakerocks,” he replied. “And it’s up to us to make sure there won’t be trouble.”

“Watch out for adders, though,” Brambleclaw added.

“I know that!” Squirrelpaw flashed back at him.

“And we do it quietly,” Thornclaw ordered her. “I don’t want to hear another squeak out of you unless there’s something I need to know.”

Squirrelpaw opened her mouth to reply, then took in what he had said and nodded vigorously.

The patrol set off again. Brambleclaw had to admit that now she had gotten her own way, Squirrelpaw was behaving sensibly, slipping quietly along behind the leader and staying alert for every sound and movement in the undergrowth.

The sun was well risen by the time the four cats emerged from the trees and saw the smooth, rounded shapes of Snakerocks in front of them. A dark hole gaped at the foot of one of them; it was the cave where the dog pack had hidden. Brambleclaw shuddered, remembering that Tigerstar, his own father, had tried to lead the savage animals to the ThunderClan camp in deadly revenge against his former Clan mates. Brambleclaw glanced guiltily over at Ashfur, but the pale grey tom was looking away, his ears flat as he examined the treeline. It had been Ashfurs mother, Brindleface, who Tigerstar had killed and left here to be torn apart by the dog pack so they would see cats as prey. Even though he hadn't done it, Brambleclaw still felt guilty every time he saw Snakerocks.

Squirrelpaw noticed his expression. “Scared of adders?” she taunted him.

“Yes,” Brambleclaw replied shortly. “And so should you be.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “They’re probably more scared of us.”

Before Brambleclaw could stop her, she bounded forward into the clearing, obviously meaning to poke her nose into the hole.

“Stop!” Thornclaw’s voice brought her skidding to a halt. “Hasn’t Dustpelt told you that we don’t go dashing in anywhere before we’re sure of what we’re going to find?”

Squirrelpaw looked embarrassed. “Of course he has.”

“Well, then, act like you might have listened to him once or twice.” Thornclaw padded up beside the apprentice. “Have a good sniff,” he suggested. “See if you can scent anything.”

The young she-cat stood with her head raised, drawing the morning air into her mouth. “Mouse,” she meowed brightly after a moment. “Can we hunt, Thornclaw?”

“Later,” the warrior replied. “Now concentrate.”

Squirrelpaw tasted the air again. “The Thunderpath, just over there”—she waved her tail—“and a Twoleg with a dog. But that’s stale,” she added. “I’d guess they were here yesterday.”

“Very good.” Thornclaw sounded impressed, and Squirrelpaw curled her tail up in delight.

“There's no adder scent, either," Squirrelpaw meowed defensively, then paused. "There’s something else,” she went on. “A horrible scent . . . I don’t think I’ve smelled it before.”

Brambleclaw raised his head and sniffed. He quickly identified the scents Squirrelpaw had mentioned, and the new, unfamiliar one. “Badger,” he meowed.

Thornclaw nodded. “That’s right. It looks as if it’s moved into the cave where the dogs were.”

Ashfur groaned. “Just our luck!”

“Why?” Squirrelpaw asked. “What are badgers like? Are they a problem?”

“Are they ever!” Brambleclaw growled. “They’re no good to any cat, and they’d kill you as soon as look at you.” Squirrelpaw’s eyes widened, though she looked more impressed than frightened.

Ashfur cautiously approached the dark cave mouth, sniffed, and peered inside. “It’s dark as a fox’s heart in there,” he reported, blue eyes narrowed, “but I don’t think the badger is at home.”

While he was speaking Brambleclaw suddenly caught the scent again, much stronger this time, washing over him from somewhere behind them. He leaped around to see a pointed, striped face appear from behind the trunk of a nearby tree, its huge pads crushing the grass, its muzzle snuffling along the ground.

“Look out!” he yowled, every hair on his pelt bristling in fear. He had never been this close to a badger before. Whirling around, he dashed out into the clearing. “Squirrelpaw, run!”

As soon as Brambleclaw gave the alarm, Ashfur dived into the undergrowth, while Thornclaw bounded toward the safety of the trees. But Squirrelpaw stayed where she was, her gaze fixed on the huge creature.

“This way, Squirrelpaw!” Thornclaw called, starting to come back.

The apprentice still hesitated; Brambleclaw barreled into her, thrusting her toward the trees. “I said run!”

Her green eyes, blazing with fear and excitement, met his for a heartbeat. The badger was lumbering forward, its small eyes glittering as it scented cats intruding onto its territory. Squirrelpaw pelted toward the edge of the clearing and launched herself up the nearest tree. Reaching a low branch she dug in her claws and crouched there, her ginger fur fluffed out.

Brambleclaw clawed his way up beside her. Down below the badger was blundering back and forth, as if it could not tell where the cats had gone. Its black-and-white head swung threateningly from side to side. Brambleclaw knew that it could not see very well; usually badgers only came out after dark, and this one would be on its way back to the cave after a night’s feeding on worms and grubs.

“Would it eat us?” Squirrelpaw asked breathlessly.

“No,” Brambleclaw replied, trying to slow his pounding heart. “Even a fox kills to eat, but a badger will kill you just for getting in its way. We’re not prey to them, but they won’t tolerate any trespassers on their territory. Why did you hang about down there instead of running like we told you?”

“I’ve never seen a badger before, and I wanted to. Dustpelt says we should get all the experience we can.”

“Does that include the experience of having your fur ripped off?” Brambleclaw asked dryly, but for once Squirrelpaw didn’t reply.

While he was speaking Brambleclaw hadn’t taken his eyes off the creature below. He breathed a sigh of relief as it gave up the search and padded over to the cave mouth, where it squeezed itself inside and was gone.

Thornclaw leaped down from the tree where he had taken refuge. “That was closer than I’d like,” he meowed as Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw scrambled down to join him. “Where’s Ashfur?”

“Here.” Ashfur’s pale grey head popped out of a tangle of briars. “Do you think that badger is the same one that killed Willowpelt last leaf-bare?”

“Maybe,” Thornclaw replied. “Cloudtail and Mousefur drove it away from the camp, but we never found out where it went.”

A pang of sadness went through Brambleclaw as he remembered the silver-grey she-cat. Willowpelt was the mother of Sorreltail, Sootfur, and Rainwhisker, but she had not lived to see her kits become warriors.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Squirrelpaw asked eagerly. “Shall we go in there and kill it? There are four of us, and only one badger. How hard could it be?”

Brambleclaw winced, while Thornclaw closed his eyes and waited a moment before speaking. “Squirrelpaw, you never go into a badger’s den. Or a fox’s, for that matter. They’ll attack right away, there isn’t enough room to maneuver, and you can’t see what you’re doing.”

“But—”

“No. We’ll head back to camp and report it. Firestar will decide what to do.”

Without waiting for Squirrelpaw to argue any more, he set off in the direction they had come. Ashfur fell in behind him, but Squirrelpaw paused at the edge of the clearing. “We could have dealt with it,” she grumbled, glancing back longingly at the dark mouth of the cave. “I could have lured it out, and then—”

“And then it would have killed you with one swipe of its paw, and we’d still have to go back and report it,” Brambleclaw meowed discouragingly. “What do you think we would have said? ‘Sorry, Firestar, but we accidentally let a badger get your daughter’? He would have our fur off. Badgers are bad news, and that’s that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t catch Firestar leaving a badger in ThunderClan territory without doing anything.” Squirrelpaw swung her tail up defiantly and plunged into the undergrowth to catch up with Thornclaw and Ashfur.

Brambleclaw raised his eyes, murmured, “Great StarClan!” and followed.

   
When he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing, the first cat he saw was Dustpelt. The brown tabby warrior was pacing up and down outside the apprentices’ den, his tail lashing from side to side. Two of the other apprentices, Spiderpaw and Whitepaw, were crouched in the shade of the ferns, watching him apprehensively.

As soon as Dustpelt spotted Squirrelpaw, he marched across the clearing toward her.

“Uh-oh,” Squirrelpaw muttered.

“Well?” the tabby warrior’s voice was icy. Brambleclaw winced, knowing how short-tempered he was; the only cat who had never felt the rough side of his tongue was Ferncloud. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

Squirrelpaw met his glare bravely, but there was a quaver in her voice as she replied, “I went on patrol, Dustpelt.”

“Oh, on patrol! I see. And which cat ordered you to go? Greystripe? Firestar?”

“No cat ordered me. But I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think.” Dustpelt’s voice was scathing. “I told you we would train today. Mousefur and Brackenfur took their apprentices to the training hollow to practice their fighting moves. We could have gone with them, but we didn’t, because you weren’t here. Do you realize that every cat has been searching the camp for you?”

Squirrelpaw shook her head, scuffling the ground with her front paws.

“When no cat could find you, Firestar took out a patrol to try following your scent. Did you see anything of him?”

Another shake of the head. Brambleclaw realized that following a scent in the heavy dew that morning would have been next to impossible.

“Your Clan leader has better things to do than chase after apprentices who can’t do as they’re told,” Dustpelt went on. “Thornclaw, why did you let her go with you?”

“I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Thornclaw apologized. “I thought she’d be safer with us than wandering around the forest by herself.”

Dustpelt snorted. “That’s true.”

“We could still go and do the training,” Squirrelpaw suggested.

“Oh, no. No more training for you until you learn what being an apprentice really means.” Dustpelt paused for a heartbeat. “You can spend the rest of the day looking after the elders. Make sure they have enough fresh-kill. Change their bedding. Go over their pelts for ticks.” He blinked. “I’m sure Cinderpelt has plenty of mouse bile for you.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes flew wide in dismay. “Oh, yuck!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

The young apprentice stared at him for a moment longer, as if she couldn’t believe he really meant it. When there was no change in her mentor’s hard stare, she whisked around and flounced across the clearing toward the elders’ den.

“If Firestar’s out looking for Squirrelpaw, we’ll have to wait for him to get back before we can report the badger,” Thornclaw observed.

“Badger? What badger?” asked Dustpelt.

While Thornclaw and Ashfur began to describe what they had seen at Snakerocks, Brambleclaw bounded across the clearing and caught up with Squirrelpaw just outside the elders’ den.

“What do you want?” she spat.

“Don’t be angry,” Brambleclaw mewed. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, even though she had deserved some sort of punishment for leaving the camp without any cat knowing where she was going. “I’ll help you with the elders, if you like.”

Squirrelpaw opened her mouth as if she were about to make a rude retort, and then clearly thought better of it. “Okay, thanks,” she muttered ungraciously.

“You go and get the mouse bile, and I’ll make a start on the bedding.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes opened wide in a winning expression. “You wouldn’t rather get the mouse bile, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t. Dustpelt especially told you to do that. Don’t you think he’ll check?”

Squirrelpaw shrugged. “No harm in trying.” With a flick of her tail, she stalked off to find Cinderpelt.

Brambleclaw headed for the elders’ den, which was in a patch of grass sheltered by a fallen tree. The tree was a burned-out shell; Brambleclaw could still scent the acrid tang from the fire that had swept through the camp more than four seasons ago, when he was only a kit. But the grass had grown up again around the tree trunk, thick and luxuriant, making a comfortable home for the elderly cats whose service to the Clan was done.

When he pushed his way through the grasses he found the elders sunning themselves in the small, flattened clearing. Dappletail, the oldest cat in ThunderClan, was curled up asleep, her patchy tortoiseshell pelt rising and falling with each breath. Frostfur, a beautiful white queen, was dabbing lazily at a beetle in the grass. Speckletail and Longtail were crouched together as if they were in the middle of a good gossip. Brambleclaw wondered why Longtail was in the elder's den instead of out on patrol. Longtail could see almost nothing after a rabbit had damaged his eyes, but he was a strong warrior. He'd almost retired, but Cinderpelt and Brightheart had persuaded him to learn to work with his disability instead of giving up.

“Hi, there, Brambleclaw.” Longtail’s head swung around as Brambleclaw entered the clearing. 

Frostfur looked up at Longtail's words. “What can we do for you, Brambleclaw?” she meowed. "Sootfur already brought us prey earlier. He's such a sweet tom," she added in a wistful voice, "he reminds me so much of his father."

“I’ve come to help Squirrelpaw,” Brambleclaw explained. “Dustpelt sent her to look after the elders today.”

Speckletail broke into rasping laughter. “I heard she went missing. The whole camp was in an uproar, looking for her. But I knew she’d just have gone off by herself. What did she do this time?”

“She tagged onto the dawn patrol,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Before he could say any more, there was the sound of another cat pushing through the grasses, and Squirrelpaw appeared. She had a twig clamped in her jaws; hanging from it was a ball of moss soaked in mouse bile. Brambleclaw wrinkled his nose at the bitter scent.

“Right, who’s got ticks?” Squirrelpaw mumbled around the twig.

“You’re supposed to look for them yourself,” Brambleclaw pointed out.

Squirrelpaw shot him a glare.

“You can start with me,” Frostfur offered. “I’m sure there’s one on my shoulder, just where I can’t get at it.”

Squirrelpaw padded over to the she-cat, parting her white fur with a forepaw and grunting when she discovered the tick. She dabbed at it with the damp moss until it dropped off; ticks obviously found mouse bile as disgusting as cats did, thought Brambleclaw.

“Don’t worry, youngster,” Speckletail mewed as Squirrelpaw went on searching Frostfur’s pelt. “Your father was punished many a time when he was an apprentice. Even after he became a warrior. I never knew such a cat for getting into trouble, and look at him now!”

Squirrelpaw swung around to look at the elder, her green eyes sparkling, obviously begging for a tale.

“Well, now.” Speckletail settled herself more comfortably in her grassy nest. “There was the time when Firestar and Greystripe were caught feeding RiverClan with prey from our own territory. . . .”

Brambleclaw had heard the story before, so he began to collect the elders’ used bedding, rolling the moss together until he had gathered it up in a ball. When he took it out into the clearing he spotted Firestar emerging from the gorse tunnel, with Sandstorm and Cloudtail behind him. Thornclaw was hurrying across to meet them from the other side of the clearing.

“Thank StarClan Squirrelpaw’s safe,” Firestar was mewing as Brambleclaw came into earshot. “One of these days she’ll get into real trouble.”

“She’s in real trouble now,” Sandstorm growled. “Just wait till I get my paws on her!”

“Dustpelt already did.” Thornclaw gave a _mrrow_ of amusement. “He sent her to help the elders for the rest of the day.”

  
Firestar nodded. “Good.”

"Why can't she be more like her brothers?" Sandstorm meowed irritably at Firestar, who gave his mate an amused look in response. Brambleclaw had heard stories about Sandstorm as an apprentice, and Sandstorm had had quite a quick temper and lack of impulse control herself.

“And there’s something else,” Thornclaw went on. “We found a badger up at Snakerocks, living in the cave where the dogs used to be.”

“We think it might be the one that killed Willowpelt,” Brambleclaw put in, setting his ball of moss down. “We’ve not seen any trace of a badger anywhere else in the forest.”

Cloudtail let out a growl. “Oh, I hope it is. I’d give anything to get my claws on that brute.”

Firestar swung around to face him. “You’ll do nothing of the kind without orders. I don’t want to lose more cats.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We’ll keep watch on it for a while. Pass the word around not to hunt at Snakerocks for the time being. With any luck, it will move on before leafbare, when prey gets scarce.”

“And hedgehogs might fly,” Cloudtail grumbled, stalking past Brambleclaw toward the warriors’ den. “Badgers and cats don’t mix, and that’s the end of it.”


End file.
